


A Hobbit's Welcome

by Questions3



Series: Fuzzy Footed Foolishness [11]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: It doesn't pay to be rude





	

            Bilbo sat back in her chair, smiling at the rosemary that perfumed the air and made her salivate as she reached for the slice of lemon. Just as the citrus dewed the offering a large, resounding knock came from her smial door. Her face fell into the slack expression of the criminally abused as she sighed heavily and wadded over to the thing, “I swear if this is you, Lobelia, I’m going to take my good fry pan and – ” her rant was cut short at the sight of a very large and _very_ intimidating _dwarf_ where a hobbit should have been. Her eyes went wide as she clutched the lapels of her robe together at the neck and stared at the heavily armored and armed creature.

            Dwalin looked down at the lass and felt the beginnings of a twitch behind his left eye. It was reserved for when one of the lads did something tremendously stupid, so he knew his instincts were trying to tell him that something was amiss and about to piss him right the hell off. As such his attitude, already not glowing, took a gut-wrenching plummet, “Dwalin, at your service.” When all he got for this and the wee bow accompanying it was more gaping hobbit lass he growled lowly and stalked into the home.

            The squeaky lass chirped at that, “Do… do we know each other?”

            “No.” The guard paused a moment and sent a small prayer she wouldn’t faint on him, the lass seemed rather pale. Really, her bleedin’ husband should have been the one answering the damned door at this time of night, didn’t he tell his wife to be expecting them? “Which way lassie? Is it down here?” he began making his way further into the hole, a bit surprised by how… cozy it seemed. He was following his nose to something that smelled like bliss as the tiny thing skittered after him.

            “I-is what down where?” she sounded a bit breathless; maybe she was choking herself with that death grip on her neck.

            “Supper. He said there’d be food, and lots of it,” he spied the dish of fish and smirked as his hollow stomach gave a large gurgle. With a small groan he devoured the thing in a bite, the flaky skin and succulent flesh sliding down his aching gullet. He barely registered the squeak before his head was clobbered and he was dusted in glass and crumbs. Before he could right himself he felt two tiny fists crash against the sides of his head, right by his eyes, and then he felt no more.

            Bilbo gasped a bit as the mountain of a dwarf collapsed like compost. She fell to her knees to check for a heartbeat and make sure the creature was still breathing. Seeing that she wasn’t needing a grave just yet she scurried about the house and pulled some rope from her toolshed to secure the beast. Once sure he’d remain hogtied she raced into her room and got herself into something a bit more substantial than her nightclothes and house frock.

***

            Balin didn’t have a chance. Bilbo was in the middle of sweeping up the remnants of her cookie jar when the elder son of Fundin knocked, near scaring her half to death as she dropped the broom and sent every last crumb and shard tumbling about her floor once more. With the left over adrenaline from the brawl with the first beast Bilbo opened the door, fully clothed, and without even a thought slammed her fist straight into the unknown dwarf’s over large nose. It was truly considerate of the creature to have such an obvious target on his wizened face. Glaring down at the unconscious body, cradling her much abused, and now bleeding knuckles, Bilbo sighed before bending to drag the body into the smial with the other one.

            “Miss Bilbo! Is everythin’ all right over there?” the older hobbit male looked on in deep concern as the lass dragged the dwarf over her cobbled path. The thunk of stone meeting head was hard to miss.

            With one last pull Bilbo stumbled over and into her foyer with the unconscious fellow, huffed a breath and smiled, “It’s fine Hamfast. I’ve got things in hand.” Before she closed the green door, however, a thoughtful look crossed her face, “Actually, Hamfast, you wouldn’t happen to have your pitchfork handy, hmm?”

***

            The third time the green door creaked open Fíli had just gone to knock, startling the princely pair. “Hello?” the duel greeting was not returned as the Durins glanced at each other. Coming into the foyer they felt the first inklings of misgivings but, being Durins, were hardly chased off by anything as paltry as self-preservation or instincts. With another duel step into the home Kíli opened his mouth to hail their host, “Mister BoggINS!” and the lads found themselves airborne as ropes wrapped about their ankles and threw them up into the ceiling. As their legs went up their heads fell down, hitting the shockingly hard wood floors with incredible speed and force. Fíli was instantly laid out, Kíli maintaining consciousness only long enough to see a blurry outline slink out from around the corner. His last thought was on how tiny their captor was.

***

            “He…o? A… ing… bet…ldn’t have hit him that second time I suppose,” Dwalin’s vision was blurry as his hearing began to come back. He managed to blink the fuzz away rapidly, however, when he felt soft tiny hands racing over his skull. What he saw was deep burgundy walls, adorned with an array of pictures around a mantle above a cheerily roaring fire as it supplied light and warmth to the comfy looking room. None of this mounted to a hill of beans, though as he found _himself_ incapable of doing anything about them while his own hands were tied tightly to the arms of a ridiculously strong oak chair. He growled into the cloth that had been shoved into his mouth and continued to rock about trying to work himself free.

            “Now really! This is how you got yourself into this mess to begin with! No manners, even when a lass is just trying to fix you up some,” the scolding tone did _nothing_ to sweeten his mood. Nor did he find himself giving a right shit about the pouty scowl on the demon’s face as she continued to rub some tincture into the head wound she’d given him. He continued to rattle about all the while she was cleaning and bandaging his head up. When she’d finally finished and was tying the bandages off she turned a deep frown on him and asked in as motherly a tone as his own blessed mum had used on him when he was being particularly stubborn, “Now, if I take the gag out will you quietly and calmly explain what you thought you’d be doing here this eve?” He just growled through the cloth as she stared at him, hands perched on ample hips as they stared each other down.

            A soft groan from somewhere behind him broke their staring contest as the lass looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened a bit, “Oh, no! Don’t do that! You’ll fall on your face and do something irreparable to your nose.” Suddenly the tiny creature was bouncing over him and shuffling off to coo at someone behind him, “Really, what you dwarrow thought you were doing breaking into a hobbit’s home is beyond me. We’re very happy for company but they should be invited and _polite_!” the last was a clearly meant for himself as she elevated her tone while clucking at the other unfortunate sod. “Hmm, what’s the matter then? Oh you wish to be closer to the other? Well I can’t have that; you’d work your binds off proper quick. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”

            Which was a lie because she didn’t say a damned thing before spinning his chair about and leaving him face to face with his battered older brother. The dwarf’s nose was twice its natural size and purpling something awful. The elder was glaring at him and shaking in his chair as his arms tried to escape to gesture at him. Only their years of brotherhood made it capable for Dwalin to realize the codger was blaming him for this nonsense and he shook in his own seat as he growled about the cloth in his mouth. The pair was rattling about so much they barely registered the twin-groaning coming from Dwalin’s left. They turned in time to watch the Princes’ wake, both brothers having been tied separately and then back to back. The lads made a strong effort to bounce onto their feet but found they were actually also tied to Dwalin and Balin’s chairs. The only thing the actions managed was to knock all four captives back to the floor in a groaning heap of pain and misery. At least the floor was carpeted.

            “Now really! That’s quite enough of all this nonsense! If you all don’t behave I’ll have to separate you and then where will we be?” the hobbit lectured as she tut tutted and righted the dwarrow in their chairs and the floor. Before anything else could be done, however, another raucous knocking could be heard from the front of the smial. The lass’s face went tight as her eyes narrowed on them, “Someone expecting visitors?”

            The dark tones that weighed her voice as she glared at them sent an icy chill down Dwalin’s spine as she traipsed back out of the sitting room.

***

            In hindsight it may have been folly to let Bifur make the initial contact with their tiny host. Upon spotting the wild looking dwarf in her foyer the tiny thing let loose a terrified shriek and raced towards the back of the home. Which only frazzled the toymaker and made him give chase. Bofur, never knowing when enough was enough let loose some chuckling commentary as he raced after the pair, “Now lass! No need fer all the hysterics we’re no’ here ta hurt ye! We jus’ wanna feed ye to a dragon!”

            Surprisingly that didn’t aid Bilbo’s disposition so when she finally led the trio of new intruders into a back room it was the work of moments to slap the pig sticker the wild one was waving about out of his lax grip with Hamfast’s pitchfork and twirl the thing about so the blunt end would savage the back of the beast’s head, knocking him forward into dreamless slumber. What didn’t go as smoothly was the hatted menace managing to snag the weapon out of her hands and send her racing into a corner of the room eyes wide with fright as she watched the last two dwarrow stalk in.

            That was Bofur’s downfall, seeing the tiny lass, chest heaving as she quivered fearfully, watching he and his brother with terror streaked brown eyes. Biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, and on the roundest, tiniest face. She looked like a bairn not a hair in sight on those soft cheeks. Hurt his heart something terrible, so he raised his hands and gently set the pitchfork down, watching as she watched his exaggerated motions, “We ain’t here ta hurt ye lass, promise. Maybe ye’ve seen some o’ our friends tha’ came before us?” Rather than reassure her this seemed to tip the scales into full-blown panic.

            Before he could even think of how to calm the tiny lass down Bofur suddenly had arms full of weepy hobbit lass as she clutched at his tunic. Amber eyes sparkled through the dampening tears as a pouty mouth quivered, “It was horrible! They were so brutish and vicious and… and… and… stupid.” It took his mind a second to register the far less breathy and hitched nature of the tone the lass had used in her last exclamation. Unfortunately for him and his head it was a moment too long as there was a sudden clang, followed closely by intense pain and bright lights before darkness took everything else away.

            Bilbo straightened from her stooped over position, limp curls falling into her face as she rose to send a calculating glare at the large dwarf left standing. Seeing his cousin and brother had already met with some rather grim fates Bombur instantly froze and raised his hands in the air, “Mercy?” And that’s how he found himself tied to the rest of his bruised and battered companions, though notably less uncomfortable as he’d been given a rather roomy chair to sit in and his bindings had been padded for his wrists and ankles. Also he was given a rather nice sweet to suck on while his own gag was merely tied around his mouth instead of inside it.

***

            Glóin and Óin were child’s play. The pair was lured into the dining room where the hobbit had decided to lay out a small spread for any new guests that managed to stumble into her home. Upon setting on the meal the pair were swiftly sent into a rather alarmingly quick unconscious state. Glóin’s beard was mashed and caked with potatoes he’d fallen into and Óin’s earhorn was still floating in the gravy dish when the next knocking came from the front door. Bilbo barely managed to get the sons of Gróin settled in a tarp on her sitting couch when a ridiculous row broke out in her foyer.

***

            “It’s just _rude_!” Dori snarled as he tried to get a firm hold of his middle brother only to be thwarted when the nimble thing bounced out of his grasp.

            Nori hadn’t grown up with the dwarf all this time without learning to avoid those giant dwarf-squashing mitts of his. Really, the only reason he hadn’t broken Ori was because the lad was just as viciously strong as he was, both taking after their mother. Nori took after his father, whoever the hell that was, resulting in far less strength but he argued, far more brains. After all, _he_ wasn’t the one who willingly _signed up_ for the suicide mission now did he? “We’re bleedin’ expected! And anyone stupid enough ta leave their doors open like this is practically beggin’ for people to wonder in and have a gander.”

            “Maybe the others are already here?” Ori asked curiously from where he stood behind their elder brother with his tablet out and his hands racing across the pages sketching everything he could see of these pretty green hills. He was far too used to these little standstills his brothers got into. Apparently he’d inherited _patience_ from _his_ father.

            Nori smirked triumphantly, “There ye have it then.”

            Dori stood to his full height and made a valiant attempt to brush the road dust from his clothes, “Not very hospitable. The least they could do is greet their guests at the door.”

            “Maybe there’s been so many dwarrow it just got easier to let people help themselves?” Ori asked once more as he gently placed his sketching away in his bag, moving closer to the door.

            Nori snorted, “I’m sure there’ll be a bleedin’ _army_ in there.” Actually, now that he was thinking about it the hill was a bit… quiet, for supposedly housing any number of dwarrow. Even just the three of his kin were making quite the racket. He turned a sharp gaze at the slightly ajar door and frowned a bit. “Maybe we should wait for some of the others to come by after all.”

            “Oh, _now_ you agree with me?! Well, I’m not staying out in the chill any longer. Ori’s probably right, the Company’s probably well into their cups by now. I’d like to get some dinner before the rest have demolished it all.” And without waiting a second longer the elder dwarf stormed right past his brother and opened the green door nice and wide, “Hello? Oh what a lovely rug! Mr. Hobbit? Oh drat what was the lad’s name again?” his silver brow creased as his mouth fell into a consternated scowl.

            “I think Master Gandalf said it was Baggins,” Ori chirped helpfully as he came up close to his brother’s back. The pair had just stepped right into the middle of the foyer and were looking about, Nori hung back, clutching the doorframe as he took in the surprising lack of mayhem.

            “Yes, just right. Um, Master Baggins? Is anyone home?” Dori’s silver brow loosened as he affected a pleasant and polite persona, stepping further into the foyer, Ori trailing very close behind him.

            When Nori saw it it was already too late. Before he could so much as yelp a warning the rug was suddenly wrapping up and around the pair of dwarrow as the netting beneath was tripped and hung them from the chandelier above. Hearing his brother’s muffled yelps and cursing Nori dashed forward to cut them loose only to dodge at the last moment as a rather pointy pitchfork made its way at his head. He fell to the floor as it chased him and rolled out of the way. When his back touched the wall of the circular smial he used the curvature to help him leaver up and over the tiny attacker, landing behind their back and disarming them with a sharp punch to the arm. The pained exclamation was a bit higher pitched than he was expecting but he didn’t think anything of it until he’d wrestled the tiny attacker back and caged them against the wall. It only took a few heaving breaths to reveal the decidedly feminine bent to their enraged hostess as she glared up at him where he trapped her. His surprise lasted just enough time for her to land a glancing blow to his cheek before he managed to wrangle the tiny fists back into his own much larger hands.

            Nori grasped the tiny beast’s arms over her head and smirked down at the snarling continence, “Now sweet, why’s not we have a wee chat then, hmm?” turning to see his brothers both hanging above them, by the sounds of it very angry but unharmed he was feeling a bit generous. The lass had a very generous mouth and sharp wits where he’d been expecting to find a stingy soft creature. A happy turn of events to be sure, maybe having a bit to do with his inclination to hold on to the spitfire longer than was strictly necessary.

            Or wise as he realized rather late when the snarl suddenly bloomed into something more satisfied and much more enticing. Bounteous curves pressed into him a moment before he found himself abruptly kneed, not in the groin where he’d expected an attack, but the gut. The lass had used his firm hold on her wrists to leverage _herself_ higher, simultaneously throwing _him_ off balance. As he gasped for air she used his momentum and weight to send him sailing ass over teakettle round her shoulder and onto the floor. One sharp pain later and the next he knew was the glaring continence of Dori as the angry older dwarf watched him come to.

***

            The dwarrow were far from amused as they all found themselves very much awake, and very much unable to move. The closest they’d come to getting loose was when Fíli’d managed to work one of his many knives loose and cut his and Kíli’s ties. Then the youngest had moved to release Dwalin while Fíli moved to leave the room and disable their hostess only to find she’d booby-trapped the door. The minute the lad touched the thing his hand had started burning something fierce and he’d yowled a curse so loud she’d come racing back into the room, knocking the door into his face and laying him out cold again. When Kíli’d looked up at the hobbit, framed in the door with her arms crossed over her chest and tapping her large foot against the floor he’d meekly grabbed up his unconscious brother and dragged him back to the chairs they’d been tied to. He’d calmly watched as she twirled them both back into their holdings and merely sighed as he was gagged again.

            “So,” the tiny terror asked sweetly as you please as she twirled about the room, looking over her captives, “which of you fools is least likely to lead me false? Hmm…” Contemplation never looked so sinister as the tiny menace paced the pack of trussed up dwarrow a time or two, finally settling on a terror stricken Ori. Wide smiles were Bofur’s expertise but what the lass sent towards the wee lad was something a bit less like a smile and a lot more like anticipation for a meal, “Yes, I think you’ll do. You’re the one with the books after all. Smarter than most I’d wager. Well then lad, mind telling me how many more of you will be coming, who sent you, what you’re doing here, and exactly why I shouldn’t roast the lot of you for attempting to desecrate my cozy smial?”

            Ori’s eyes were large and terror filled, as he was suddenly relieved of his gag and became the sole focus of the meek looking hobbit lass. He barely registered his brother’s both glaring and yelling behind their bindings. After everything she’d done to them, without even a proper introduction, no one was eager to find out what she’d do if she chose to interrogate. But he was on a mission for their _King_! A near holy quest to reclaim their homeland, a member of _Thorin Oakenshied’s_ Company! She’d not break him! And he told her just as much, “Do your worst, orc scum! You’ll not break me! Torture me all ye want! I’m not sayin’ a thing!”

            It was a sure thing Ori thought himself quite brave and thunderous. Sadly the lad had such large brown eyes and his hair was sticking up at the back, he looked nothing if not like one of Bilbo’s many rambunctious cousins that ran about playing at some grand adventure. Bilbo took in the scowling lad and shook her head, not being quite able to help the small smile that twitched at her left cheek, “Now lad, what’s this about torture? I’m a proper hobbit lass! It would be even worse manners than you lot have shown. Really! Breaking into a lady’s home as you’ve done!” The fond smile gave way to a stern scowl as she glanced about the room at each of her unwanted guests. Turning back to the lad she began to slip into a sound lecture, “It’s very rude, and more over its not done in these hills. I don’t know how you dwarves handle home invaders but we hobbits just don’t stand for the like. You’re all lucky it’s so late or I’d have the Thrain here in a minute to kick the lot of you out the Shire entirely! As it is you’ll have to just stay here the night till the Bounders are awake to deal with you.”

            The rest of the Company was growling into their gags at her comments, some at each other considering Dwalin was still getting a downright _evil_ stare by his older brother who continued to blame his barnlike manners for the whole thing. Ori took it all in, eyes getting wider as he began to understand what must have been happening here, “Miss, we’ve been invited!”

            Bilbo’s dark brow furrowed as she pursed her lips in discontent, “I assure you, Master Dwarf, I’ve invited no one and none of you into my smial this eve.”

            “But… ma’am Tharkûn told us we’d be meeting our Burglar here!” Ori announced as though there could be no other truth in this world or the next.

            The scowl on the hobbits face was becoming a bit less sure as she watched the earnestness in the lad’s face, “I’m sorry dear, but I don’t know any _Tharkûn_ , nor will you find anyone of the ‘burglar’ persuasion in these hills. We’re all right and proper gentle hobbits in this village. Maybe you’re meant to be further North? The Tooks are known far and wide for their nonsense. I should know. I’m half Took myself.”

            Ori was shaking his head in the negative before she’d even finished speaking, “No ma’am! Tharkûn said we should come this way, there should be a road that would take us up ‘Bagshot Row’ and there we’d find a green door with his symbol on it. That’s you, that’s your door. Does a Master Baggins live here? He’d surely know what we’re talking about!”

            Bilbo was just blatantly confused now, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, “Yes, yes, _I’m_ Master Baggins dear. I’m the _only_ Baggins living in this smial. And I assure you, there’s no mark on that door. I’ve _just_ had it painted last week!”

            “Please, miss. Check! There’s a mark on the door, I swear on my beard!” the lad was getting right anxious as he tried to impart his earnestness into the lass.

            “Okay! Okay! Calm down dear, I’ll check. Dear me. It seems we’ve all been played something fiercely false by this ‘Tharkûn’ of yours.” Bilbo mumbled as she made her way to the front door again. Just as she was nearing it, however, she heard deep voices arguing on the other side. Her face fell into a dark grimace as she hefted Hamfast’s pitchfork once more and moved to greet her newest set of ‘guests’.

***

            “Really, how one could _possibly_ get so turned about in these hills requires a mind far shrewder than my own to contemplate,” the old greybeard continued to lecture as the pair clopped up the steps to the bright green circular door.

            Thorin’s scowl was dark and his patience had dissipated the first hour he’d been lost, “Perhaps had you mentioned the Halflings lived in a maze!”

            “There is nothing maze like about these hills! There is only one road and had you _stayed on it_ you’d have been here hours ago,” the codger was far from happy about the night’s events. It had taken him hours to find the directionally challenged dwarf. And when he did it seemed the King had been wondering the hills in large looping circles for the better part of the afternoon.

            Before Thorin could come back with any type of response the door had flown open and there stood a tiny woman with a large pointy pitchfork, glaring at the pair. Thorin had just reached for his own weapon when the lass laid eyes on the wizard and growled, “Gandalf! This was all _your_ doing!?” before throwing her tool to the ground and stomping her overlarge foot. Her hands were instantly fisted at her hips, managing to scowl down at the taller man in that way only women were capable of.

            Tharkûn seemed a touch taken aback at the clear hostility and coughed a bit before coming back to himself, “Now my dear Bilbo –”

            “Don’t you ‘dear’ me you old goat! I’ve been besieged this entire evening by strange dwarves who only just told me that they’d gotten some misinformation that sent them looking for a _burglar_ of all things!” The hobbit lass stopped at that and turned sharply around to look at the green door that had swung all the way open when she’d seen the wizard. Soft cheeks glowed pink in temper at the clear scratching at the bottom of the green portal as she swirled back to the pair gaping on her front step, “ _I just had this door painted!!!_ ”

            “Now Bilbo! It has been a rather long day. I’d be more than happy to discuss everything once we’ve all settled at the table. Preferably with something to eat and drink?” the wizard asked in his most feeble and beseeching manner, grey eyes widening a bit to imply innocence that had probably never existed.

            Thorin had had quite enough with being quiet and moved forward to introduce himself to the small female, “Lady Hobbit, my company and myself have come in the hopes of engaging your husband…?”

            The hobbit lass suddenly flushed an even darker red and her hands flew to her cheeks, “Oh _dear!_ I’ve been an absolutely _horrible host_!”

            Gandalf waved a hand as he chuckled, “Now, now, dear. You’ve been no such thing –”

            The tiny creature shot the wizard an angry glare as she swirled back into the home, “Not to _you_ you disturber of the peace!”

            Tharûn shared a confused glance with the dwarf King as the pair trailed after the hurried hobbit into a room that ran off the side of the foyer. What they found there was enough blackmailing material to last till the next Age and beyond. Before them was the entirety of Thorin’s Company, those dwarrow who had signed on at the Mountain to join his quest and support his claim as the King of Erebor. And they were all trussed up and gagged, glaring at the tiny lass who’d moved to the young scribe’s chair and began to strip the ropes from him as she apologized profusely for the misunderstanding.

            Gandalf looked at the group and back to the seething hobbit as she turned to release a new dwarf, young Kíli he believed, “Bilbo! Was this actually necessary!?”

            The hobbit paused in her ministrations and turned a harsh glare on the wizard, “Oh? And what exactly were you expecting me to do Gandalf when these hulking, beastly, _warriors_ traipsed into my home without so much as a by-your-leave, swallowing my dinner and demanding food?!” At the end of that statement Dwalin sent a huffed groan up to the Valar as Balin continued to growl at his younger idiot brother. Bilbo huffed a breath before continuing to help the young brown haired dwarf, “You’re lucky all any of them have is maybe a tender head. I’d be fully in my rights to have had them thrown in the lake.”

            Gandalf sputtered as he tried to come up with a response to the completely unabashed Halfling when a loud reverberating laugh echoed through the hole as the King of Durin’s folk near cried with amusement. Turning streaming eyes towards his moodily watchful advisor where he sat roped to a rather comfy looking armchair in the sitting room he boomed, “Balin, give her the contract. When you’re freed of course.”


End file.
